Roberta smiled. "If he is as hungry as he looks."

"Do I look hungry?"

"Starving. So do we, no doubt. Come and have some sandwiches."

"We're going to toast them," explained Ruth, walking back to the fire
with Richard when he had leaped with alacrity over the fence, his hat
left behind, his brown head shining in the sun, his face happier than
any of his fellow-clubmen had seen it in a year, as they would have been
quick to notice if any of them had come upon him now. "We have ginger
ale, too; do you like ginger ale?"

"Immensely!" Richard eyed the preparations with interest. "How do you
toast your sandwiches?"

"On forks of wood; Ted's going to cut them."

"Please let me." And the guest fell to work. He found a keen enjoyment
in preparing these implements, and afterward in the process of toasting,
which was done every-one-for-himself, with varying degrees of success.
The sandwiches were filled with a rich cheese mixture, and the result of
toasting them was a toothsome morsel most gratifying to the hungry
palate.

"One more?" urged Ruth, offering Richard the nearly empty box which had
contained a good supply.

"Thank you--no; I've had seven," he refused, laughing. "Nothing ever
tasted quite so good. And I'm an interloper."